Sally Whitehill visits Middlesbrough to watch the council's partnership response to nuisance in action
"Torture" seems to be a popular word in Middlesbrough. It is bandied about in council offices and the town's community wardens discuss it on the streets. It may seem a melodramatic way of describing the town's antisocial behaviour problem, but a walk in the Whinney Banks or Fleetham Street areas proves that it is entirely appropriate. Meeting residents, one realises that this is just the way to describe the situation they have been living in – up to now.

Home secretary David Blunkett's white paper Respect and Responsibility, published last month, focused on the national problem of antisocial behaviour. Meanwhile, Middlesbrough council is already using tough and effective approaches to tackle it.

Mayor Ray Mallon, an independent contesting a previously safe Labour seat, won a landslide election victory in May 2002. Known for cutting crime by a fifth in his previous job as the town's police superintendent, he vowed to bring his tough approach to all aspects of council policy.

His administration inherited the town in a sorry state. Although it has a population of just 140,000, it had the third highest rate of domestic burglary in the country and three of its boroughs were listed in the bottom 10 in the UK for poverty.

Five months after taking office, Mallon launched the Raising Hope, Alleviating Fear initiative, bringing together different agencies in just the kind of joined-up working that the government is currently pushing as the best way to fight antisocial behaviour. The initiative has already had considerable success. In a speech to councillors last week marking the end of the first six months of the project, Mallon revealed that compared to last year, crime has dropped 18%: burglaries are down 40%, car crime 36% and street crime is at an all-time low.

I do the job because I want to make a difference. I think I am 

Ivor Williams, Community Warden, Middlesbrough

Middlesbrough's problems stem from huge unemployment in the wake of the decline of the iron and steel industries: 12.4% of local people are out of work, well above the North-east average of 7.6%. The cycle of poverty and crime was exacerbated by drug smuggling through Middlesbrough's port.

"To be frank, we have massive problems," says Bob Brady, deputy mayor and the man responsible for overseeing and implementing Raising Hope, Alleviating Fear. "We decided to tackle the things that affect everyday lives – litter, vandalism, graffiti, antisocial behaviour – and to focus not only on the symptoms of crime but the environment that causes it."

Cross-departmental intelligence
Raising Hope, Alleviating Fear is, as its name suggests, a two-pronged attack. Its "active intelligence mapping" system, launched in January, takes problems reported by the public and each council department, combines this information with police intelligence, feeds it into a central computer at the town hall and maps it onto a plan X X of Middlesbrough. Weekly interdepartmental meetings use the maps to identify trouble blackspots. Community wardens – the second prong of the attack – are then sent to patrol the areas. In an emergency, they can be despatched within minutes to any part of the town.

The friendly face of enforcement
There are 36 wardens who patrol specified areas of Middlesbrough in pairs. "They go out on antisocial behaviour calls, but they also engage with the community." Brady says. Wardens recently organised a five-a-side football tournament that attracted 72 teams, and there have been individual successes, too: "We were keeping our eyes on two kids who were balancing on the edge," says Bill Thomson, the warden scheme manager. "We organised a trip to an army base and one of them is now in the Gulf. They've found an aim, a purpose, which is really satisfying."

People are prepared to pay more council tax if they see improvement 

Bob Brady, Deputy Mayor, Middlesbrough

Although wardens must work in some of the roughest areas of town with no more legal powers than ordinary citizens, there is stiff competition for the jobs – in November, 900 applications were received for 21 posts – meaning the service can afford to be choosy about who it takes on. "Applicants are looking to make a difference. There is a lot of job satisfaction." Thomson says. "These are normal people who have had enough of the antisocial behaviour going on around them. They see how successful this scheme has been and want to get involved. They also need to be approachable – people often tell them things they wouldn't tell the police."

Mallon has promised to increase the number of wardens to 80 by October but, as the starting salary for a warden is £13,000, this is not going to be cheap. There are plans to raise council tax this year, but Brady is not worried about the popularity of this decision: "I'm convinced people are prepared to pay if they see an improvement in services. Right now, people feel safer and more content."

But Middlesbrough's community-based approach to tackling antisocial behaviour has a tough bottom line. Brady says: "We have a straightforward mandate of helping people through crises, but we do clutch antisocial behaviour orders behind our back." Wardens are backed up by enforcement officers, whom Brady describes as "tough guys", and a housing department that has, in the very worst cases, "a determination to deprive people of their homes". The iron fist inside Middlesbrough's velvet glove is demonstrated by the recent case of two youths given antisocial behaviour orders. Their names, photographs and details of their behaviour – stealing and burning cars, intimidation – were printed on 800 leaflets circulated in the areas where they lived. Mandy Walker, the council's operations manager, has no qualms about the severity of the approach: "These people were torturing other residents," she says. "It's not a name and shame thing – it's actually empowering communities. Before, people wouldn't come out of their houses, or let their kids out to play. We're giving them confidence the council is reacting to their worries."

An added bonus of Middlesbrough's tactics has been the creation of a team feeling at the council. "Since the mayor has come in we have all started working together," Walker says. "Before, you'd hit all the usual inter-service barriers, but now we've got the same priorities."

Life on the streets: on patrol with the wardens

Phil Brooks and Ivor Williams started working as community wardens in Middlesbrough last November. Brooks previously spent 22 years in the army, and then seven-and-a-half years working as a security supervisor; Williams, on the other hand, was an office worker. Now, they patrol the streets of Middlesbrough between 11am and 10.30pm, working four days on and four days off. Brooks and Willliams offer to take me on a whistlestop tour of two of the most notorious areas of Middlesbrough: Fleetham Street, a red-light area with an abandoned art college that has become a magnet for antisocial behaviour; and Whinney Banks, a run-down estate and favourite dumping ground for stolen cars. As we talk about the itinerary, a worker standing next to us in the office jokes: “You’ll need stab jackets going there.” The two wardens laugh it off and head towards a white minibus emblazoned with the service’s contact details. The first stop is Fleetham Street. We park outside the abandoned college. All the windows are smashed and graffiti covers the walls. “The kids come here after school,” says Brooks. “They climb on the roof, drink, take drugs, the usual kind of thing, cause trouble.” We walk round the side where a house backs on to the college grounds. “They climb into this man’s garden,” Williams says. “They torture him, they really do. He never knows if his house is going to end up looking like the school, or if he’s going to be robbed.” “The wardens are a damn good thing,” says Selma Clenaghan, a pensioner who has lived in the area for 48 years. She invites us into her house and jokes with Brooks and Williams about a dancing competition that’s coming up. “There has definitely been a difference,” she tells me. “I feel safer. The problem is that there aren’t enough wardens – we need more.” At Whinney Banks, we drive past abandoned houses boarded up with green sheets of metal and pull up by a bit of wasteland scattered with carrier bags and empty bottles. A boy is playing on a mound of dirt. He runs away when he sees the wardens, who wave at him. “We’d look there for needles,” Brooks says. If they found them, they would either ring the council’s drugs team hotline who would come and remove them, or, if children were near the area, as in this case, they would remove the needles straight away using their own equipment. “This is used for abandoned cars,” says Brooks, showing me a large piece of wasteland around the corner. “They’ve ripped off the gates – it used to be quite a nice driveway. Now they use it to leave the cars or set them on fire. But knowing we’re on patrol helps cut down activity like that.” Leaving the estate, Williams stops the van. A boy is walking along the road. Brooks winds down his window. “Are you behaving today?” he asks. We drive on as Williams says: “Sometimes you look at some of the kids, like him, and think that they don’t stand a chance. But I do the job because I want to make a difference. I think I am.”

Source

Housing Today